Nirvana
by Shadow Phantom
Summary: Something new from me, angsty stuff. Basically, Trowa has cancer, and how he and everybody else reacts to it.
1. Part One

Disclaimer: Don't own Gundam Wing, or cancer, or Black Hawk Down. *sniff*

Rated PG-13 for: (How does Hollywood say it?) Adult language and adult situations

AN: I wrote this to get rid of my angst demon. Shadow Phantom, writing a death fic? Yep, but there's humor in here. (Big surprise.)

Nirvana

Dec. 3rd 8:00 AM

He stalked into the school, as usual. He stuffed his flute in his locker, ignoring jeers, as usual. His eyes lingered on a picture Cathy had scrounged up of his parents, as usual. He pulled the Social Studies book from the bottom of his stack of books, causing the rest to tumble out, as usual.

Before closing the locker, he checked that his stocking cap was securely in place. Ignoring the greetings and waving slightly to his friends, he walked straight into Social Studies, and sat down hard, like he was testing the strength of the desks.

"Mr. Barton, you know school policy, get rid of the hat."

"I have-a pass." He shuffled through his binder, pulling out a folder. "It's right here. I thought the principal talked-to you." His voice had a post-cold sound to it, and slightly halted in the middle of sentences.

The teacher glanced at the pass. "Oh yes, how are you holding up?"

"Fine. Thanks." He sat back down, tucking the folder into his binder.

"Trow! What are you doing? Class doesn't start for ten minutes!"

"Shut up Duo. Welcome back Trowa!"

"Thanks." He looked up from the assignment he was copying from the board, and Duo jumped back.

"Dude, I can see both of your eyes. Weird."

His brown hair stuck out; still unruly even in the confines of the yellow cap, but it had gotten a major trim, revealing both of his startlingly green eyes. 

"Cathy forced me to get it trimmed," He shrugged, and turned back to his work.

"Come girl scoping with us! Maybe they won't be scared of your hair now."

"Don't listen to this moron. He seems to think college is a place to get drunk at."

"Yeah, twice as much then here at this crummy high school." Duo moaned, going off on his list of 'Reasons High School Sucks'.

"I think I will-pass thanks anyway."

"Sure thing man." Duo punched him in the shoulder and sauntered out of the room.

"I'll beat him for you."

Trowa shook his head. "Not unless you-have to."

"I have to. Wufei come and help me."

"Gladly." Wufei smirked cracking his knuckles. The two exited the room in search of their prey.

The five-minute bell rang.

"Trowa, what's the matter?" Quatre bit his lip. "I feel something weird. You know me and my funky intuition."

Trowa set his pencil on the desk. "Do you know what's it's like to be afraid to take a shower?" He said finally.

"What?"

"To be afraid to take a shower, frightened to play a game of basketball, scared stiff to even come to school. To talk to your friends, to just-"

"Trow, what are you trying to get at?" Quatre asked, thoroughly confused.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the bell rang. Wufei, Heero, and Duo slid into the classroom just before the teacher started her lecture.

11:30 AM

"Guys, I think there's something wrong with Trowa," Quatre worried at the lunch table.

"Duh. The guy was just sick for two weeks. How fine did you think he would be?"

"He, just seems, not normal."

"You're right. He wasn't normal," Heero interjected.

Trowa walked into the lunchroom, dumping his books down at the other end of the table.

"Yo Tro-man!"

"Hey." He opened a book, and started writing.

"You okay man?"

"As fine as one can be-doing make up work from hell." He replied.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"No. Not hungry."

Duo propped himself up on his elbows. "Does this have anything to do with being sick?"

Trowa nodded, and adjusted his ski cap. Duo reached over to snatch it off his head, but Trowa's reflexes were quicker, and he held the hat firmly on his head.

"Don't do that." He said seriously, his voice in a creepy tone. Grabbing his books, he walked quickly out of the lunchroom.

"Now _that_ is not normal."

3:00 PM

"You were right Q, something is up."

"What happened?"

"English. It was fucking scary."

"Duo, just tell the story," Heero muttered.

"Right. See, we've been reading 'Catcher in the Rye' for like two weeks. Well, Trowa hadn't even started, so that boy was behind. But, at the beginning of class he went up and talked to the teacher, who hugged him and nodded. Then, she gave him a spiral and pencil. He was scribbling like mad for the rest of the hour. Like it was the last essay of his life."

The four pondered this silently for a few minutes.

"Give it back, jock strap." A growl cut through all conversations and thoughts. Everybody turned to see Trowa surrounded by a group of jocks.

"I don't think so pussy." The quarterback laughed, holding the hat just out of Trowa's reach. Normally, Trowa would have stood there calmly insulting the football player until he was punched in the face, causing the provoker to get in trouble. But not this time.

"Fine." He leaned back and slammed his flute case as hard as he could against the quarterback's face. The hat dropped to the ground and Trowa snatched it up, jamming it on his head, and glaring at the rest of the football team. The handle lay disconnected from the case on the ground. The quarterback spit out a few teeth and groaned about a broken nose, blood pouring down his face.

"Trowa? What's the-?"

"I have fucking cancer, ALRIGHT!?" He screamed at Quatre, picking up his mangled case and stomping off.

"Trow, you're house is five miles away!" Duo yelled.

"I'll manage!" Trowa called back.

"Wait Trowa!" Quatre shed his backpack and shoved his violin into Duo's hands. He was about to bolt, but Heero grabbed his shoulders.

"He needs to blow off some steam. Let him go."

"He's sick and needs help!" Quatre shouted at him.

"No. He'd just get angrier if you tried to help him. Besides, he's on the All Star Track Team. He could outrun you any day."

Quatre choked back a propensity of tears and nodded. 

"Cathy's going to be mad."

4:10 PM

Trowa trudged up the front steps and pushed open the door. He braced himself for the verbal beating his was about to receive. 

"Trowa! Are you alright? Quatre called and told me was happened. Did you run home? You feel warm."

"I ran part of the way, but not much," He lied. It amazed him how tired he got after such a short distance. He wanted to collapse on the ground and throw up.

"I hope so. God, I was worried! I ran some water in the tub for you, and ordered a pizza. But you can only have a slice."

He nodded dumbly. "Thanks."

"I'm so proud of you." She whispered, giving a tight hug. "You're really brave. I'm here for you, remember that."

"I will." He returned the hug, almost fiercely. "Thanks Cathy."

"You're the only family I have left. Now get your butt upstairs and take that bath."

"Okay." He slowly turned and headed up at the stairs, stopping a few times to cough and hold onto the rail for support. When he had disappeared into the bathroom, Catherine let out a low strangled cry. There were droplets of blood shining on the white carpet, and looking over, she saw some on the shoulder of her shirt.

"Oh God. Help me," She whispered, collapsing on the couch and dissolving into tears. "He's a good boy. He doesn't deserve this."

Dec. 4th 12:15 PM

"Man, did you see what happened at lunch?" 

Wufei and Heero were in Science, working on their experiment, with the absence of Trowa. Gossip was spreading throughout the room.

"No. I was in the office. What happened?"

"Oh man, it was so gross! Trowa threw up this bloody crap _everywhere_ and then passed out. It was the grodiest thing I ever saw!"

Wufei's frown deepened, and Heero snapped his pencil in half, his grip was so hard.

"Eww! The guy could have at least left the cafeteria, or not eaten, or something."

"Like he could help it." Wufei muttered.

"Yeah, I know. I think he did it, just so he could be pitied."

In an instant, Heero had leapt over the table, and was pinning the culprit against the wall; his knee positioned right in between the ribs. "You know if I broke your ribs you would be pitied more then Trowa. I'd like to see you run to the bathroom to throw up, when you're so sick you could hardly walk. I'd like to see you try to act normally while you were dying." He said in a soft dangerous tone.

"I just-" The gossiper squeaked.

"You just what?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sure you are. You're just a weasel, you know that?"

"Yuy, why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Heero turned around, facing a football player.

"Okay." In a second, Heero had dropped his victim, and punched the defense player in the face so that he fell backward in a dead faint. 

The class was completely silent, save for Wufei's quiet chuckling. "Anybody else want to make fun of a kid with cancer?" He asked the class. Nobody said anything. With one punch, Heero had knocked out a kid, at least six inches taller then him.

The teacher walked into the room, and stared at the jock on the floor. "Can somebody tell me what happened?"

"I think the fumes got to him sir," The earlier victim spoke up quietly. 

With a sigh, the teacher raised an eyebrow and looked over at Heero was writing with his half of a pencil. "Fine. I'll get the nurse."

2:30 PM

Trowa opened his eyes and slowly sat up, holding his head and groaning.

"Don't sit up. That's a nasty knock you got on the head." He looked dazedly at the nurse and leaned back against the pillow.

"What the-? What happened?"

"I'm not sure. Your friends will be able to tell you. They've been checking in all day." She handed him a glass of water. "Your sister wasn't home, so we left a message on the machine."

"She's at school." He told her, wincing slightly and shifting. "Why am I so sore?"

"Apparently, you fell over and hit your head. So, you probably hit the ground pretty hard."

"Tro-man! You're awake!" Duo bounded into the room, grinning. 

"Why aren't you in class?"

"Seminar," He smiled, showing the nurse his Hall Pass. Then pulling up a chair next to the cot, his smile dissolved a bit. "How are ya feeling?"

"Like crap."

"Not a big surprise. You took a pretty nasty fall. Oh man! It was so cool! Heero knocked out this big football player with a punch. His whole Science class was talking about it! Where is he?"

"He's back in class." The nurse replied. "But he'll have a big lump on the side of his face for awhile."

Duo cackled, and Trowa closed his eyes, grimacing. "Could you turn it down a bit?"

"Oh, sorry."

"Is he awake?" Quatre walked in, handing the nurse his pass, and grabbing a chair of his own. "Hey Trowa, how are you?"

"Fine. I think."

"You didn't look to fine during lunch." Duo commented.

"What did I do?"

"Oh Allah. You decided to get a drink and a cookie or something like that to eat, because you said Cathy had been scolding you. Then after you ate it, you got this glazed look in your eyes, and threw up."

"It was EVERYWHERE man. Then you just kind of tumbled out of your chair and passed out." Duo cut in.

"Great. Guess I can't-go to school tomorrow."

"Hey, be happy. I wish I could get out of school."

"I'd rather go to school, then have cancer Duo," Trowa sighed, fiddling with the end of the sheets. "Did you get my stuff?"

"Yeah, I brought it here." Quatre leaned over and handed Trowa his spiral and few books.

"Thanks."

Duo opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse, cut in. "Leave. Trowa needs rest. You can talk to him on the bus."

"Oh come on lady, we've been here for like five minutes!"

"Don't talk to me like that Duo Maxwell. Leave. But before you do, take your Riddilin."

End of Part One, tbc…


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: Okay, I admit it, I own them! *runs away from corporate lawyers*

Rated PG-13 for: Adult language and Adult situations

AN: Okay, first off, I would like to say, I forgot to mention that this was a death fic. Sorry! *smiles uneasily* It completely slipped my mind, so I would like to say…that this is a death fic. Also, I didn't mean to go so overboard on the whole journal thing, but it just kind of happened. I thought, if a kid was dying, they would write a whole bunch too, I know I would. But, my (two) friends seemed to not mind so, enough of my blabbing, and on with the show!

Nirvana

3:20 PM

Trowa got off the bus, waving to Duo and heading towards his house. He wanted to sit down. Still trying to shake off the light headed feeling; he glanced up at the sky. The cloud cover was heavy, and it was practically screaming that it was about to rain.

"They'll find my body in a gutter tomorrow morning-if it does." He muttered. It was hard enough to walk home, but in the rain, it would be pretty much impossible. 

The drizzling started as he neared home, but within a minute it was pouring like a monsoon. Stumbling up the front steps, he was greeted by Cathy wrapping him up in a warm blanket and shoving him down on the couch.

"I got the message. Trow, how are you?"

"I'm fine."

"Trowa, how much of your hair fell out in the bath last night?" Catherine gulped, handing him a mug of hot chocolate.

"Not that much." He whispered.

"You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"I hate those."

"I know, but Trowa…" She trailed off, breathing heavily. "The doctor thinks that the chemo isn't going to work for you. You just aren't responding."

"What did you expect Cathy? It was in the-advanced stages when we found it. Did you think that anything was-going to work? Nothing…nothing is going-to work, is it? Only a miracle can save me now." 

Two Days Later…

"Hey man, welcome back! What's up?"

"The treatment has stopped working."

Duo looked a little confused and frowned. "So what? You on meds now or something?"

Trowa shook his head. "No."

They walked into the school and were greeted by Quatre, Heero, and Wufei. Duo stopped short. "Wait. Are you meaning to tell me they have you on _nothing_?"

"Yeah."

"But Trowa, doesn't that mean-"

"I'm going to die. Yeah."

Quatre's eyes widened and filled with tears. "Are you serious? Trowa, you're going to die?"

"Everybody dies sooner or-later, it's not that big of a deal."

"Oh, no, Trow, this is WAY different." Duo shook his head. "This is not right."

"How long to you have?" Heero spoke up softly.

"They're not sure. Maybe until mid-January."

Quatre choked, "J-January?"

"A month."

"I'm going to strangle those bastards! A month!? I thought they had backups, ways of detecting this stuff early!"

Trowa stopped walking in the middle of the hall and hung his head. "They do. It's my fault. I told Cathy that-I was okay, but she forced me to go the doctor. I stalled for too long. It was already advanced."

"Oh Trowa…that's terrible." Quatre whispered.

He shrugged. "It's not the end of the world."

Quatre exploded, and stomped his foot, grabbing Trowa's arms. "Yes it is! Trowa, do you even realize what this means? A month! You're only eighteen."

"Don't rub it in." Trowa muttered. 

"Rub what in?"

"The fact that I don't feel sorry for myself. The fact that I can't cry. You know what? I didn't even cry when my parents died."

"But why not? That's awful."

"I don't know. Maybe God just hates me."

"Trowa, you can cry. You don't have to put up fronts. Nobody is expecting you to. How much longer are you going to wear the mask that never cries?"

Trowa gulped, and collapsed on his knees in the middle of the hall, bursting out into tears, and covering his face. Without so much as a thought, Quatre sank to his knees and pulled Trowa into a hug.

"It's okay Trowa. Go ahead and cry."

Wufei and Heero stood there, glaring at people who stopped and stared, and making sure that the two got a wide berth. Duo cussed those out who cracked jokes. Finally, Trowa wiped his eyes, and sniffed a few times. 

"A little girl said the exact same thing to me at my parents' funeral. God, I feel so stupid. Thanks Quat."

"No problem. That's what friends are for."

"Q, you're going to have to wring out your shirt," Duo laughed, turning and flipping off a few people. 

Trowa sniffled a few more times, and smiled slightly, struggling a little bit to get to his feet. He seemed embarrassed by the fact he had broken down, and didn't show it again that day. Or the next day. Or the next. A week went by, and Trowa had turned into a robot. Then on Thursday he wasn't at school. Quatre broke down the moment they found out.

"He's going to die, and he won't do anything about it." 

Later that day…

Duo pounded frantically on Trowa's front door. He shifted from foot to foot, trying not to let the rain soak him completely before Catherine answered the door. Her eyes shone with tears as she recognized who it was.   
"Hi Duo. Trowa is resting right now. You'll have to come back." She made a move to close the door, but Duo stuck out his hand and blocked it.

"Tell me what the hell is going on."

"You can't come in right now, you'll-"

"I'll stand here and get soaked. Catherine, tell me what's going on."

"It's nothing. Trowa will talk to you later."

"Cathy. Stop it. It's not like I'm on my deathbed." Catherine's lower lip trembled ever so slightly.

"Go back to bed."

"If I'm going to die, it's not going to be lying around like a log. Duo, come in."

Duo stepped through the door and stopped himself from gasping. Trowa looked even worse then before. He was as pale as a vampire, and his eyes had huge circles under them. He was still wearing the ski cap, but the few strands of hair that stuck out of the hat were dull and limp. The only sign that he was still alive was his green eyes, and even those had lost some of their shine.

"Trowa, you weren't in school today, so I decided to drop by and see what was happening."

"I was at the doctor. Sit down." He himself, shuffled over to a recliner and sat down.

"I'm fine. What did they say? They're going to kill you one of these days."

"That wasn't funny." Catherine said flatly, her arms crossed.

"I have a new extermination date." Trowa said, ignoring Duo's choice of words.

"Ex-extermination date?"

"Deadline. I have until Christmas, maybe not even then."

"That's in-!"

"About two weeks. Yeah, I know."

"Are you coming back to school?"

"Tomorrow. But probably not after that." 

Duo grasped the end of the couch and held his head. One of his best friends, _dead_, in two weeks. This couldn't be happening. It just didn't happen to people like him. "No." He whispered more to himself then anything.

"Duo…"

"I don't believe it. There has be something they can do. That's just crap! They're supposed to be helping you! No. No, no, no, no, NO!" He shook his head. "I'm going. I'll see you tomorrow Trow. Bye Cathy." And he stomped out the door, running from the house to get away. Away from the pale drawn boy who used to be so full of life, who used to run miles and never tire. Who was coming to terms with his own death, and he only had two weeks. Two weeks.

"This isn't real." He muttered, stopping, blocks away from that stifled deathtrap, breathing heavily, getting down on his knees, and feeling like he was about to be violently ill. 

"Duo?"

Duo looked slowly up, panting, and squinting as rain ran into his eyes. And then, there was no more rain. Wufei was standing there with an umbrella, and, if possible for Wufei, concerned.

"God damn Wu. Don't go there. Don't do it. It's awful."

"What are you talking about? I just came out for a walk. Your neighborhood is twenty minutes away."

"I had to get away. It's terrible." Duo slowly got to his feet, Wufei reluctantly supporting him.

"Did Trowa get his deadline?"

Duo nodded. "Yeah. Christmas, maybe before."

"Two weeks," Wufei whispered, looking up at the sky. "I call the stereo."

"How can you say that!? We're his friends! People think I laugh everything away, but you, you just have no heart!" Duo was frantically pacing up and down the sidewalk yelling at Wufei, who remained stoic and perfectly calm.

"Yes. But we don't support him if we break down at how terrible his life is."

Duo stopped in mid-yell and hung his head. "I'm so confused. Dammit, I hate this. It's not fair." 

"I know. But all we can do is watch." Wufei walked forward giving his friend a hug. Duo hung onto Wufei desperately, crying his eyes out. "Come on in. Call your mom. The storm is only going to get worse. I'm sure we could catch up on things." And then he led Duo towards his house. The same guy who had once threatened to castrate him if he set one foot on his property was now offering to have him stay the night.

"Sometimes you're not such a bad guy," Duo smiled and followed Wufei up the driveway.

December 17….

"Trowa! How are you?" Quatre ran up to Trowa, who was shoving the last of the things in his locker.

He looked at the floor. "The last of it fell out last night."

"Your hair."

Trowa nodded, and turned back to his locker, pulling out his Social Studies book and his secret spiral. "I finally get rid of this thing today." He motioned towards the textbook. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Quatre's forced smile faltered momentarily. "You want me to carry it?"

"I got it. Thanks though."

"So are you going to finally take off your hat now?"

"No. I look terrible bald." They walked into the classroom, and Trowa took his seat, breathing a little heavily.

"Feeling okay?"

"I've certainly felt better in my life." He turned to his spiral to open it. "I just…nowadays I just can't concentrate on anything. I feel so dizzy all the time, so tired, I just wish I could sleep it all off and wake up feeling like myself." He shook his head. "I have a hard time even keeping up a conversation. It's pretty awful."

"What do you write in that spiral anyway?"

"A whole bunch of things." He answered cryptically, laying his head down on his desk. "Maybe I should get a little bit of rest…" He sat up again, and trailed off as his eyes fluttered shut and he fell sideways. 

"Trowa!" Quatre lunged forward and prevented his friend from knocking his head on anything. "Ms. Reed, we need a doctor, hurry!" 

The teacher rushed to the phone, and Quatre pulled Trowa out of his desk, laying him on the floor, and putting his ear to his chest.

"Keep that heart beating." He whispered, pulling off his jacket and putting it underneath Trowa's head. "You'll make it. Just watch."

The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive, and when it did, everything was just one big blur. Quatre vaguely remembered telling the workers what had happened, and Trowa's phone number, where his sister went to school, things like that. The lights seemed to magnify tenfold giving him a terrible headache.

"I think I need to go to the nurse." He mumbled to the teacher, holding his head.

"Of course Mr. Winner. Take your things with you." Quatre gathered up his books, and after a moment of hesitation, Trowa's spiral. It needed to be protected anyway.

He lay restlessly in the cot, turning over and trying to get to sleep, as he felt so drained, but he was sure it was emotionally. His head was feeling better, but the lights still had an unnatural glare about them.

Finally, with nothing better to do, he reached over and grabbed up the green spiral opening it to the first page. The black words stood out, in an almost 3D like way on the white paper.

"My English teacher gave me this," he read out loud. "she told me that a lot of kids dying write down their thoughts and observations before they die, or while they're going through a traumatizing time. She even hinted that it might be extra credit." Quatre smiled despite himself, and skimmed the page before turning it.

_"I don't understand how kids can be so cruel. They seem to enjoy making fun of me, because I have cancer. I always used to the think that kids with cancer were treated with pity, which would be better then with what I have to put up with. Most just jeer at me that I'm doing this for attention. Like I got cancer so I could be popular. That was certainly on the top of my to do list."_

It amazed Quatre how the normally masked boy came alive when he put his thoughts on paper. Sarcasm, sadness, humor, it was almost like he was reading another person's thoughts. This wasn't the Trowa he knew.

_"I wonder if I can cry. I never really have. Not even when my parents died. I was too young to understand what was going on, I wasn't attached yet. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to have emotion, to be able to express yourself to other people. For once, to just be like Duo or Quatre. To be able to scream and shout that you want comfort, and support, and to not act brave and noble, carrying it on your back. I'm eighteen, dying, and I can't cry."_

Tears ran down Quatre's face, blurring the page in front of him. If they had only known…if they had only gotten past Trowa's wall he set up. 

_"I used to think those stories about kids with cancer and died all nobly and stuff, were bullshit. I would snort, and think about the stupidity of the story. But, Cathy lent me her 'Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul' last night, and every single story I read about somebody who had terminal illness made me to the point of tears. I felt so greatly for those families, they have transformed into the best kind of stories."_

Flipping the pages, Quatre came to the newer writings, were the letters were wobbly and lighter. One page was blotched with tears and near impossible to make out.

_"I did the unthinkable today. I cried. It came on me like a rush; suddenly I wanted to get out my emotions, to have people feel sorry for me. Just for once. Just for once I would like to have others feel sorry for me. I didn't know I could cry, I thought my tear ducts were invincible. Able to withstand any attack. I guess old scars run deep."_

And later…

_"I hate writing awards. These stories about people who overcome everything to be happy. Or sad depressing stories, that I can relate to, all too well. It seems either the incredibly sad or the incredibly happy win these awards. Not those soulful ones whose works appear in 'Chicken Soup' or storytime. If you sit down with a paper and pencil and just write, write about anything, you will discover that you are better then these people who win the Pulitzer or the William Allen White. Because if you write the best you can and from your very soul, nobody can beat you. You can only beat yourself."_

Near the back of the book, the writing became harder to read, like Trowa had been frantically trying to get out all his thoughts before he died. The section on war movies about did him in, as he read it out loud with a trembling voice.

_"War movies. I love war movies. They are the thing that embodies human nature. They make you realize that peace has been and will always be, just a dream, nothing more. Recently I saw 'Black Hawk Down', and I now have it listed as my favorite movie of all time. Anybody can relate to it, even those who have never once experienced loss or pain of any sort. I felt exactly like Blackburn. Tumbling headfirst into something I wasn't prepared for. Something that could kill me, and cut off my young eighteen years. I found, that in a way, we are all like Blackburn. Proud, confident, and unprepared. We all think that nothing could happen to us, but we're all wrong. Even the youngest of us can be struck down. Just like Blackburn. The young soldier, who was sure of his abilities and ended up making a mistake, one which made him scoffed at by some, even though it was only partially his fault. That's how I feel. That this is somehow partly my fault, that for some reason if I had braced myself I wouldn't be paralyzed. Does it ever work that way?"_

Quatre soon became enthralled in the little journal of sorts, containing all of Trowa's fears and doubts, his complaints and compliments, his smiles and tears. He discovered that those doomed love stories, were now loved by his friend. That Old Navy ski caps were lifesavers. That Spanish is no fun when you're not allowed to swear in a different language. Hours later he reached the last page, feeling fully revitalized, but too caught up in the writing to notice.

_"I wonder a lot nowadays. More then I probably ever have in my life. I ask the things the English teacher tells you to ask. Why, what, when, where, who, and how. Why I got the disease, how it happened, when exactly did it take a hold of me, what exactly is it. Where will I be when I die? Why did this have to happen to me? All I really want is that completeness, that feeling of complete self-contentment, inner peace. That's all I really ask for. Those people from the 'Make a Wish' Foundation came and asked me what I wanted. And I told them. My first wish was for my sister to win the lottery, then for all my friends to win the lottery. They asked for a more practical third one, and I just laughed. If there is a God up there, I still have my doubts, but if there is a God there really is only one thing I want. And that thing is nirvana. A feeling of wholeness. That's all I ask you God. The only thing I want before I die. I could care less if I lived past Christmas, what's a couple of days? Nothing really. I could die happy right here if I had that one thing to grab. Nirvana." _

The End

Author's Note: *sighs* That was incredibly lifting. That thing just threw my need to write angst out the window. I had to try my hand at a death fic, as I haven't written one for months, and watching 'Moulin Rouge' too many times will do that to you. Originally the whole war movie part wasn't going to be in there, but I actually wrote that the minute I got back from seeing 'Black Hawk Down'. That movie was awesome, just incredibly awesome. My tear ducts are breaking down. One of these days I'll write a death fic, cry, and never write another one. You may be wondering on how I could do this to Trow-chan, my favorite character. Simple. It was either him or Heero, one of the guys who never shows what's on their mind. Trowa was the perfect model for this story. Now go and hug somebody you love. Now, dammit. ^_^ I love you all – Shadow Phantom 


End file.
